Healer {z.m}

06

I was sitting in a vast empty, cold room. The walls were once painted a bright golden colour but it seemed faded with time.

I could feel the stinging sensation in my right arm unable to lift it up at all. As soon as we had entered the building, I had rushed to my assigned room and locked myself in the bathroom. I cried and cried with my tears falling uncontrollably.

I had killed two people in one day. In a span of a few minutes, I had killed two men who probably had a family and a wife and kids. Their wives were probably calling each other, trying to figure out where their husbands were while feeding the kids false hopes about their fathers being okay and safe.

I took a cold shower and washed my hair. The cold water made the pain a little bearable but it still hurt. I could not tell anyone what I was feeling and going through nor did I have the strength anymore to try and escape.

I was stuck without knowing for how long. Maybe till when they kill me.

I changed into a yellow summer dress which I found in the dusty closest. One thing, I could realize that this room belonged to a girl.

I was lying on the bed with my right arm tucked away securely. I could feel the blood trickling through the white bedsheet destroying it. I knew if I didn't treat the wound faster, it might get infected. But I had no medicines nor bandages to even keep the pain away.

Suddenly the door bursts open and I quickly sit up, hiding my arm behind my tired body.

It was Zayn. Without even taking me in properly he says, "We need you to help Harry with his wounds. You are a doctor and all."

"Not a certified doctor."

"I DON'T CARE." Zayn loudly growls at me. I flinch from his rude aggressive behaviour.

"I'll be down in a minute."

Without saying anything, he closes the door with a large thud.

I gather myself and tie my hair into a ponytail. After looking around, I tear the bedsheet into half and tie the clean sheet half around my wound. To avoid drawing much attention, I put on a hoodie over the wound.

"You need to sit or lie in your most comfortable position. I will check the wound out."

Harry seemed much more fresh than me in spite of taking a gunshot wound to his abdomen. There was much bleeding and even though I could make out that the bullet hadn't punctured his intestines, he needed surgery.

I hold pressure on the wound to reduce the bleeding. The bleeding was not as severe as I thought it would be.

I could feel the five of the boys eyeing me as I apply pressure.

Suddenly Niall says, "Maybe we could elevate his legs. I have read that somewhere."

"Never. Never elevate the legs, it will be much more harmful. Harry can slip into unconsciousness."

"Let the lady do her job, Nialler. Let's go and have a drink." Louis suggests while they walk out with Liam following suit.

After what seemed like a good amount of time, his bleeding finally stops while I stitch the area up and bandage it up.

After cleaning the wound, Zayn asks me, "Is he going to be okay?" His voice seemed concerned. He cares about his mates after all.

"Well, he needs immediate surgery but since there's no way I can do that here, he should be taken to a hospital. But otherwise, the wound is not that severe and the bullet had not punctured much, so without any dangerous activities for a month, he will be well. But the stitch should be taken proper care of since it can tear any moment if there's too much of movement leading to severe bleeding out."

Zayn was quiet for a while. Harry was gaping at me with his mouth open. I was mentally high-fiving myself for being able to make them speechless for a second.

Zayn merely nods at me while Harry suddenly says, "Come over and give me a hug." I just shake my head because I knew as soon as I hugged him, I will be too tired to even pull back.

"Oh come on." Harry suddenly grabs me by my hand and as soon as he hugs me tightly applying pressure to My wound, I suddenly wince and curse a little. I had almost forgotten about my wound.

Harry scrunches his face up in confusion while Zayn who was about to walk out, turns his head around looking at me with a hint of worry in his eyes.

"You okay?" Zayn asks me in a soft voice. Not being able to hold anything in, I take off my hoodie exposing my poorly bandaged wound with blood gushing down my arm.

Harry murmurs, "When did you get hurt?"

"I just- I just got attacked by a knife- while- while", I realize that they weren't even listening and concentrating on my wound, so I shut up. 

Zayn makes me sit on the edge of Harry's bed and as gently as possible opens my hastily wrapped bedsheet. I don't look at the wound but instead watch his face.

"Fuck." Zayn curses. He looks at me, "From what I know, the wound looks really deep and there are glass shards in it." He frowns and with confusion asks me, "Are these glasses the one from the car window?"

I weakly nod finding myself glued to his brown eyes. "You could've at least let me know. Communication is key in what we do."

"What do you guys even do? Kidnap girls and kill people?" I mouth back, already cursing myself to keep my fucking mouth shut.

"Even getting hurt so much, you don't know how to close your mouth do you?"

He cleans the wound neatly. From the way he handles the medicines and blades, it seemed he had done this multiple times.

"Can you hold this?" Zayn asks with the roll of clean bandage. As soon as I place my hand upon the roll, I feel an unbearable stinging pain in my arm that I almost black out for a moment. I could feel myself clasping something really hard.

The stinging was gone but the pain lingered. I open my eyes and see that it was his hands I was holding tightly. I quickly withdraw my hands and just fidget with them. I could feel his intense gaze on me calculating the quick reflexes.

He knows the tricks that we all are taught in the med school. I wonder what his story is. It's not everyday I see, people carefully handling someone's wounds and actually knowing what to do rather than just bandaging it up.

He doesn't say anything instead just stands there looking at me. "It's going to hurt a lot. Your arm." He says softly. But I already knew that.

He was still standing there. I clear my throat and speak up, "This is going to sound lame, but this- I mean whatever we did- even if it was- really illegal, i mean fucking- illegal. But this- this is the bravest I've ever been in my whole life. So I don't know. I guess, thank you?"

He seemed slightly taken aback with my rambling.

I know he isn't big on emotion but the small smile that he gave me, that was enough to make me feel a lot better.

Word Count: 1212 words

//

he cares.